ministry, not mini-series

If you were cool in 1967, and into music, you probably know who LOVE is.  Sometimes referred to as Arthur Lee and LOVE, this Los Angeles based group rocked the world that year with a real classic album, one referred to as their Sgt. Pepper, “Forever Changes.”  In a year where the music world was in a renaissance of music, where The Monkees outsold the Beatles that year, think of that for a minute, “Forever Changes” filled many FM stations airwaves, and with good reason.  The music was great, with instrumentals only the gifted could pull off, and mystical lyrics, that today are still open to interpretation by the listener.  Find a copy, and sit back and enjoy.  The last song, “You Set the Scene” is a rock classic, you may have even heard it and didn’t know it.  But one line in another song, tells us “the news today will be the movies of tomorrow...”  How simple, yet how so true.  Quick, what line from Justin Bieber has gripped you?  45 years from now how will any of so-called music be remembered?  Certainly not classic....But music back then spoke with emotion, crying out for help and desperation, or being so much in love that nothing else mattered.  Maybe Mark Twain said it better almost 100 years before 1967, “the only thing worse than not falling in love is falling in love.”  Not sure of what label he was on, or of any lyric credits.  So in the read the book while waiting for the movie to come out spirit, just listen to the news, and have an accurate forecast of the next movies.  All courtesy of one Arthur Lee....

The beautiful weather here, I rode in Palm Springs yesterday where it was 80, reminds me how the Mama’s and Papa’s sang how they be “safe and warm, if I was in LA...” and thank you Lord for So Cal weather.  A ride taken on a new 2015 Tiger XRX, the first one in the US of A, and for an afternoon, my mind was cleared and the road was the song.  For over 200 miles, just me and God, assisted by a new Tiger, with weather to match...who says there is no God?  But when arriving home it was back to reality, and out last night ministering at Dustin Arms, I had to remind myself that my life is about ministry, and not a mini-series.  That trying to cope or help with the problems of everyone else will consume me, and how much we need Jesus.  One man who is on medication just got back from Philadelphia and going to trial, having to live in a homeless mission for two weeks until his SSI check arrived and he could come home.  A young mother with three children who has no visiting rights is excited because the court may let her see them, her youngest at 10 months is starting to walk.  Another man is now a professor at the City College, and struggling to make the change, while helping vets get through the VA paperwork.  A fire in a room has scared the tenant to death, and yet others fight alcohol, drugs, broken homes, relationships, and just try to make it through the day.  Two men with diabetes have lost feet, yet not hope.  They all can use a little bit of love, and sometimes this mini-series of life can overwhelm the ministry we go to do.  And we must remember that Jesus changes the life, and that without a change involving him, nothing will change.  We know this, Jesus even told his disciples this but yet they had trouble getting it, and they saw him every day.  And could ask questions....good thing he left his spirit so we can too.  Yet many hear the truth and reject it, no faith and it shows.  They trust song lyrics before the gospel. 

Yet Jesus tells us that he will suffer at the hands of the chief priests, elders, and teachers of he law.  His disciples saw this, and they were there when he went to the cross.  This they saw, and believed, maybe not fully understanding, but knowing what they saw.  Yet they fell short when he told them that after three days he would rise again...and then he did.  And in almost unbelief to them showed himself to over 500 people...he truly was risen!  But if Jesus suffered, we shall too, for we are his, but some day we will rise like he did, we will be resurrected.  But we must go through the process of persecution he did, and we must die before we can be resurrected.  But to live in Christ on earth now, we must die to self, we must step out of the mini-series we call life, and seek the cross, to see what was done there, how horrible it was, but how beautiful it became.  And is today. 

Struggling with your faith, here is a faith builder.  Jesus told us in this world there will be tribulation.  Having trouble in your mini-series of life?  Here is the proof of his word.  So if you can accept the pain and suffering, why do we struggle with the grace he promised?  We were all dead because of sin and Jesus is the way back, not a way, the way.  We can relate to the suffering, and many have come to Christ, yet we live like we are in the past.  We need to live like we are resurrected, we have already conquered death in him, and although times are tough, each one is a reminder of how much we need him and be assured that because he overcame, so shall we.  And that we are, despite the situations.  If we just look to the cross and see him.  Yet so many trip over their crosses, when all Jesus tells us is to pick them up and follow him.  He knows...his life was one of ministry and not a mini-series.  And although we play it out like one, when we allow him to minister to us, we are changed.  And we can minister to others...it is called love.  And only found in Jesus.

We will all go through a forever change some day, death will separate us from our lives on earth.  Let Jesus make that forever change in your life today.  Get over the suffering, the pain, and the all about me mini-series you are caught up in.  Here a new song, the song of Jesus.  When Jesus rode into Jerusalem to cries of “hosanna,” which means save now, after few days when the Roman government was still in charge, when they still felt overwhelmed, when they felt Jesus failed in their eyes for their wants, they then yelled “crucify him!”  Just because they didn’t get their way.....

Jesus is the way, and the way out of your mini-series.  A way to be ministered to, and be changed so you can minister to others.  Making disciples is what he calls it, equipping others to help others.  Yet so many live life like a scene from “Murder by Death,” where a blind butler is trying to communicate with a deaf and dumb maid.  Funny, but how true it can be in real life.  Some day your whole life will play out in heaven, but we forget how it is playing out now for all to see.  The way to the cross always leads to a new direction, a new way, and new beginning and a resurrection.  But on different terms, it leads to freedom and having your soul put at rest.  It leads to Jesus...

It has been said that if you remember the sixties you weren’t there, but Jesus has never forgotten you.  And he was there, is here now, and will be tomorrow.  Ministering in the midst of your mini-series, showing you love when all else fails.  He is the forever change you have been looking for and he sets the scene.  And you cannot ever know love without him.  It’s your choice how you face the day, “good lord it’s morning,” or Good morning Lord.”  Jesus is the way out, pretty far out huh?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

final notice

As I watched what may have been Peyton Manning’s last game Sunday,  I reflected on how he had become the Denver Broncos the last three years.  And how hard it will be to walk away, I almost said pass away, more appropriate for him, especially when spring camps begin and he isn’t there.  He hasn’t said it yet, but I think his run is over, and it is time to move on.  Every athlete knows when it is time, and I think he knows it is time.  He may have lost his last game, but he is going out a winner.  Way beyond stats and records, this guy is a winner.  This morning I got a “final notice” from my high school alumni association that rates are going up, join now.  For over 42 years I haven’t joined, so why would I now?  But then I considered Peyton and his teammates playing their last game together, and the times he will miss.  The two a day drills, countless hours of tape, and all the time spent with the trainers.  But he will never be able to go back once he has left to the camaraderie of when he was part of the team.  To the teasing, razzing, and joking in the locker room.  To the private conversations with team mates after practice, and special times he knew off the field, but as part of the team.  It made me reflect back to my junior high school days, where I was a jock.  A pretty good jock, I set freshman records for rebounding, throwing the javelin, and scored the 100th point one night in a basketball game.  Many great memories of being part of the team, and hours of practice.  I spent way too much time in locker rooms and thought that was all their was to life. I went from football, a co-captain, to basketball, again a co-captain, to track my freshman year.  By-passing baseball, which I loved to play, but run by a coach I detested.  We’ll call him Cheen, he had a Polish name with too many z’s to pronounce, and led by intimidation.  Each year when baseball season started he would demote us because we had been in basketball tournaments, we were very good, and we would miss the first week of practice.  And he would remind us all year about it, no incentive or congratulations for winning, just punishment and abasement for being late.  So when it came time for baseball, I chose track instead, where I became a “sissy weight man,” instead of a “pussy runner.”  I was low on the charts, but part of the team, and the first meet set a school record for throwing the javelin.  And threw my arm out, never placing again.  My only memorable event after that was throwing a javelin into the foot of a Roman Catholic High School competitor.  And walked away from all sports my sophomore year, motorcycles were my new passion, sports were out.  I had played the game, I had competed and won.  Now I rode for fun, and the fun continues 45 years later.  With only sporadic softball league games in between, which faded away after I got married.  I left on top, hitting many home runs, but had found something better, a better team mate to go through life with.  She was my and is my wife, Theresa, and we have been team mates now for almost 37 years.  But as I look back, I can see Peyton getting reunited with his family, and them becoming his #1 team.  Not that they maybe haven’t always been, but his life will change, a new season in his life.  He can go on to new things, maybe take up throwing the javelin....who knows.

Our bodies wear out, and to a certain extent so do our minds.  But something deeper inside us, the spirit that God gave us will live forever.  No season endings for us, we will continue in heaven long after the final whistle or buzzer has blown here on earth.  We may not be able to play at an intensity we once did, but now can look back and encourage others.  We can give advice, guide and encourage, and watch as others live their dreams.  We can be a coach, a pastor, teacher, or just help as needed in the kingdom.  Which is already here on earth, for wherever two or three are gathered Jesus is among us.  It just isn’t heaven yet, but that is coming.  For now we are in training, scouting via evangelism, teaching and relating testimonies to encourage.  Studying to find ourselves approved, not to be saved, but to verify the words we share as true.  We assist in ways that at one time were below us, but that now give us great pleasure.  We are part of a great team, the family of God, and in heaven all the games will be home games.  The cheering crowds will be for God, not for us, and we will be part of the greatest pep rally ever seen.  We have won the championship, we fought the good fight, and Jesus has rewarded us with heaven.  No matter what I will have always been a Scotch Plains-Fanwood High School Raider, no joining an alumni club will take that away.  But the ad did get me thinking of old friends, team mates ,and where they are.  How they are doing, and if they are on God’s team for heaven. But the final notice by line struck me.

We have no say over when we die, even those who commit suicide do not take God by surprise.  He knew and knows, and some day we will get that final notice.  The spirit will call one final time, then death, separation from earth and loved ones here.  Eternity calls and is waiting, where you spend it is your choice.  Either way you will worship God forever.  In heaven joyfully with no words being able to describe the joy.  Or in hell, where every knee will bow, and tongue confess, but in agony.  You were called to join the team, but opted out.  Maybe life was too hard, or you were too busy for Jesus then, he wasn’t for you.  He was patient, but you were stubborn, so you resisted him, and chose death and hell.  And he granted your wish.  We will only know when that final notice was after death, and then it will be too late.  Your decision will have been made, your fate sealed.  The gates of hell will keep you in, those in heaven will never think of leaving.  But both seasons will go on forever....where will you be?

Being part of a church, or part of a team won’t get you into heaven, only Jesus will.  It is a one on one relationship, and although many you know will be there, many you know also won’t be.  Part of the team didn’t get them there, it takes Jesus.  The records here on earth, the victories, and all your team mates will not gain you entrance to heaven.  They may to a Hall of Fame, but the hall of faith takes Jesus.  And without being on his team you don’t make it.  Regard this as a final notice, for no man is promised tomorrow.  Stars may go out in a blaze of glory, they may know when it is their final game, we don’t.  Choose Jesus today, and find life.  Find a future and a blessing every day until the day we die and enter heaven.  Winners in sports only last for a season, then they have to start over.  After a bad year that is a good thing, but when winning it all you still start the next season at .500, no wins or losses.  You may have blown every play in life, but choose life in Christ and win the big one, the only one that counts.  Looking back I had some good times, won some games, set some records.  But looking ahead I see Jesus.....who do you see?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

"gee Mister, you must be old..."

I watched as an old friend of mine, just turned 70 but still working parts, was hassled by a young kid, impatient with him.  He was taking too long it seemed to him, what this young kid didn’t realize was the depth and wealth of my friend’s memory and experience.  But yet I am just as guilty, as when I get the new kid at the parts counter, and he takes forever to look up a clutch cable, when my old friend knows the part number by heart.  Bob Dylan was right 50 years ago, “the times they are a changin”...” and maybe we haven’t changed with them as fast as it takes to keep up.  Eric Clapton turns 70 this year, how many remember him in the Blues Breakers with John McVie of the first Fleetwood Mac?  Before EC was in Cream, not the The Cream as I have heard them called.  At the tail end of many old timers when at Mercedes Benz, not Benz’s or Mercedes, but Mercedes Benz as they are properly called, we referred to 107, 126, and 116 cars.  We knew them by chassis, and could order parts quickly, if we got the older parts man.  Today there are S, E, C, and too many others to remember.  Same with motorcycles, only the older ones remember the first Honda 750 in 1968, priced at $1245, but quickly changed to $1495.  How the first Z-1’s were $1895, and there was a shortage of oil filters, and although the Honda one would fit, we waited.  How BMW was imported by Butler and Smith, the company named after the intersection where their offices were.  And BMW cars were imported by Max Hoffman, the 1600 putting BMW on the map.  British what was what we heard, no one knew that the B stood for Bavarian, or what a Bavarian was.  We all could tell the difference between a Chevy 327, a Mopar 383, a Ford 352, or a Pontiac 455 just by the way the exhaust sounded.  Motorcycles didn’t have sound systems, cars had AM with rear seat speakers, and Triumphs ran TT pipes.  Wide ovals were the tire of choice if they fit in your fender wells, and a tune up was parts, plus, and points.  Maybe a condensor, then set the dwell and timing.  Racers on Friday nights would dial in their distributors.  Uncork their headers.  The smell of Sunoco 260 in the air, a far cry from geeks today with laptops downloading tunes into a small motor in a four door sedan.  Made in Japan.  Or South Korea.  So when sharing with older guys, guys my age, and the younger guys are listening intently, eventually one will say “gee Mister, you must be really old...”  I rather think of Jimi Hendrix reply when asked “have you ever been experienced?”  and I can say “I have.”

It seems I remember those who we used to refer to as characters more.  My old friend Joe, who used to tune for Cal Rayborn, before he went national and became a hero.  Joe with his wooden leg, with a Castrol sticker on it.  Tuning by ear, and making bikes run better than the gauges showed.  He knew just where to set a BSA twin, a Triumph single, or a Sportster for maximum power.  A real tune up, not just a parts swap.  Done very 6000 miles per the factory.  But learned on the street.  I had a tech at Ford in the late seventies, who started after WWII, and could still change out a clutch in a Mustang in 90 minutes.  I watch John Wickham our worship pastor tune his guitar by hand, while another hooks up a box and lets the box tune it.  Which one is really a musician?  But the time is here now, where as I am retired, I hang out with the old guys, where we tell the stories of how it was, and the younger ones listen intently.  As we talk of our first bikes being 100cc or maybe even a 250, they cannot believe we rode anything that small.  How we had to kick start them, change tube type tires, and replace inner cables when they broke. The outer casing was still good.  How we mixed Castrol Bean Oil, and how good it smelled at the track.  How a ring a ding ding two stroke meant power, how a thumper meant torque, and they all vibrated.  And leaked oil.  Except for BMW’s, they weeped.  We took our bikes to the track in vans, and  would sleep with them amongst the milk crates full of parts.  A time when Harleys were made in Milwaukee, Triumphs in Meriden, BSA’s in Birmingham, and BMW’s in Munich.  All Jap bikes came from Japan, we couldn’t pronounce the cities, and few cared.  We were a small community who knew each other, who loaned tools and parts at the track or on the side of the road.  We stayed open late, solved world and social problems over bottles of Coke instead of on the Internet,  and we dialed our friends from home, on a rotary dial phone, owned by the Phone Company.  We smelled dangerous odors, mixed oil and gas, and used STP to lube cables.  Yet as I look back and so many are gone, I wonder what will my sons and their friends remember about their riding?  Their bench racing sessions?  And somehow I don’t feel old, just blessed.  I have great memories, and still make new ones today in retirement.  A place I only thought old people existed, and a place I thought I never get to.

It goes on in the church too.  Today we have Pastor Ray or Pastor Doug.  No more Reverends, or men addressed by their last names.  Formality has given way to informality, but somehow respect is still here.  When I first got saved 40 years ago the Jesus Movement was still going on, and many felt the church was hypocritical.  And maybe it was, for they taught things, and said things, then did the opposite.  They talked great words, but had little meaning behind them.  We had been told to love in church, but it took Jesus to show love to us.  Religion was on the way out, and Jesus was on the way in, and many old, established churches felt threatened.  They  had traditions, and this new generation was different.  They loved, they read their Bibles, and we even wanted to go to church, we weren’t forced to.  We met in strip malls, in classrooms, or even in homes, and abandoned church buildings.  We were the church, and soon the Jesus people were growing and the world changing.  And for the churches who talked love but didn’t, and who say they cared, but didn’t show it, or didn’t accept our new generation, they fell by the wayside.  Dead and soon abandoned by all but those who hung on to tradition, who never did it any other way before.  Who had never been involved.  Who filled a pew, and left a pew after they were gone.  Religion had externalized them, whereas Jesus made it internal.  It came from the heart, and hearts were changed.  Lives changed, and the unwanted became the leaders, and Jesus became Lord.  And while many subscribed to the prescribed external form of worship, we wanted more of Jesus.  But found the same death can overcome us, as new traditions begin.  As a new generation is growing to take our place, we all need to look to Jesus, and follow him in the spirit.  Putting away our new traditions as they become old and a hindrance, and let the spirit lead.   We need to get excited again as we once did, and watch as Jesus changes lives.  Including ours.  We need to put away our self righteousness, and realize just because we do them, that doesn’t make them right.  We need to welcome the younger ones, encourage them and lead them as they become the new leaders.  We need to keep Jesus first no matter the generation, or suffer from hardening of the heart.  Which is death, both physically and spiritually.  A place no one wants to be.

We need to follow Jesus and his spirit rather than the rules of men.  To truly worship from the heart, and watch as old traditions die, and new ones begin.  I still don’t get excited over a Honda car with a big muffler.  But today’s kids do, and as software replaces hard parts, I am learning to still follow Jesus.  But old traditions are hard to break, having a good foundation is the basis needed.  For motors it will always be fuel and spark, we need Jesus to always be that spark.  And it is up to us, for no matter the horsepower, or memory bytes, it is still up to the person behind the handlebars to decide how much throttle to give.  And how much power to use.  Meekness it is called, power under control, only useful if it connects the tire with the pavement.  And only when we are connected to Jesus.  As one generation dies and another is raised up, we all need Jesus.  The only tradition to follow.  For many the day Buddy Holly died was the day the music died.  Elvis has left the building.  So have John and George.  Joe Cocker, Karen Carpenter, and Jim Croce.  Hendrix, Jim Morrison, and Pearl.  Otis Redding, Jerry Garcia, and even Michael Jackson.  Their music lives on.  What will you leave behind for the next generation?  Anything less than Jesus is meaningless.  Anything less than shared while alive never was.  Consider that at your next bench racing session.  Times change, but Jesus never does.  He only changes us.  If you ever wonder what we will talk about in heaven, remember you must get there first.  And Jesus is the only way.  “Gee Mister, you must be old.”  But I am assured of where I am going, are you?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

one afternoon at the Harley shop

All I did was stop in to use the bathroom.  And Quaid’s Harley being along my ride route, I decided to use their facilities.  As we get older, the need to water a lemon tree gets more frequent, ask Burt Munro, and I was greeted while leaving by a salesman I have known casually for years.  He began asking about the Scrambler I was riding, and was keenly interested.  “Can I go look at it before you go?  I have some questions?”  So we went out among the many Bar and Shield faithful around my bike, and he started telling me how they had taken in a Thruxton last summer.  And rode it all summer before putting it up for sale, and how much they loved riding it.  This from an older Harley rider and salesman, who just happens to love motorcycles.  Soon another salesman came out, and asked more questions, and when finding out the price and seeing how cool the Scrambler was, admitted he had just spent too much on a new Sportster, he wished he had looked at Triumphs first.  And he sells Harleys for a living!  Soon I had half a dozen Harley owners gathered around admiring the Scrambler, asking questions and making positive comments.  The last one being a question from the original salesman, “are they loud?  I am so sick of loud motorcycles.”  And to him and a few others, when this muffled Triumph started up, they all commented on the exhaust note-they liked it.  Lemon tree watering completed, I threw a leg over it, and riding away I couldn’t help but blip the throttle in true Harley style, wondering if I had just crossed into a Twilight Zone event.  Where were the cameras, and would anyone believe me? 

The one thing we all admitted while talking was how much fun the Triumphs were to ride.  They were lighter, faster, braked and handled better.  They were easier to ride, and both salesman admitted so many were taken in by the Harley mystique, only to be found to be a mistake, as any Japanese dealer can attest to.  Look at all the used Harleys they have, recent models with low miles.  Traded on bikes to be ridden.  And I always think of Spud, who always liked to see whatever Press bike I was riding.  An old Harley rider, he liked the Daytona R the best.  He had read about them, and secretly wanted a ride...but felt he was too old.  He had been riding a cruiser since the late sixties.  But looking at it one day, getting up from bended knee, after admiring the details, told me “we have a common disease, motorcycles.”  And he was right, we do.  And like many of us who do, the fact we ride is more important than what we ride.  But a quick reminder of a few years back shows how many are just brand specific to a fault.  Glen and I traded bikes for a ride.  He on my Sprint RS, me trying to catch up to him on his Road Glide.  We both stopped for an outlaw biker pulled over on the shoulder in distress.  He waved Glen on, but when I stopped he explained his situation.  He thought I was a Harley rider...boy was he wrong.  I guess my Triumph t-shirt didn’t give me away.  And we both laughed about it later, but sadly we all have built in prejudices toward what we ride.  But there is a wind of change, as even Sonny Barger went from HD to Victory, and now rides an Indian.  And likes my Triumphs, and knows all about them.  And if they were made in America would own one.  Heard from his lips, and also from his first book.  And this guy knows how to ride....what’s your excuse?

You have not always met the nicest people on a Honda, or let the good times roll on a Kawasaki.  Harley almost faded away, Triumph came closer, and BSA, Indian, and many others have come and gone, come and gone, and Indian decided to stay.  Riding is a personal thing, and what you ride is personal.  When Theresa started riding I told her this, and after a few weeks explained how it was.  She couldn’t quite put it into words, but her bike and her had a relationship.  Suddenly it was her bike, instead of the Bonneville.  And her attitude towards it changed, and an intimacy began.  Not a worship, but like a relationship between two friends, where many things go unspoken, but say a lot.  We don’t often think of Jesus like that, we think personal as in heavenly, or he is our savior.  And he is, but we see a different side of Jesus when his friend Lazarus gets sick and dies.  Jesus calls him friend, in Greek the word meaning brotherly love, like in Philadelphia.  He was God, he was man, but he is also friend, and was to Lazarus and his sisters.  I am sure they talked heavenly things the many times they met for dinner, but maybe other things as well.  Jesus being a carpenter may have shared about what he had made that day, or how his family was.  What he had seen on the news,  seemingly non-religious talk, but talk among friends.  The kind of talk we do with our friends.  And another side of a relationship was seen.  One time telling Jesus all about a ride I had just taken was precious time spent with him.  We are told to be in the world, but not of it.  Jesus is that great example.  And how many times have you been unable to share him because you didn’t find common ground with your new friend?  Yesterday I was reminded that just because we ride different brands, or make a living from one, that we don’t all love riding.  And with a deeper relationship now, we have a common ground, a respect for each other, and now the words I share about Jesus come from a friend, not just another person making a point.  Consider that next time you meet someone new, or someone you know.  Seek a common ground, and watch as Jesus is part of it.  Listen, share, never preach.  I don’t like being preached at, so I don’t to others.  And if you do to me, I’m outta here.  Good teachers know it takes a good audience, works while riding too. 

So maybe this was just one afternoon at the Harley shop, but it made my day.  It is always good to talk with others who share your interests, but also good to listen and learn.  We had an audience that day who overheard what we were saying, and were interested.  Maybe never considered anything but a Harley.  Now they know about others, and that it is OK to ride another brand.  Riding should be fun, and if it isn’t, you need to change.  Maybe your style or lack of it.  If something is missing from your life, consider Jesus.  He considered you that day on the cross, and is right now.  Consider the words you speak as you never know who is listening.  Or who sees you.  After riding a Thruxton all summer, two men found that all bikes are not created equal.  And they couldn’t wait to talk when I showed up.  Many have heard about Jesus, and have questions.  Will you listen and answer, or just continue an argument?  We all have a common disease called sin, and only Jesus is the cure.  If three old riders can agree on riding, can we maybe agree on Jesus?  Let those who ride decide.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

James and JIll went up the hill

In “Diamonds are Forever,” Sean Connery plays Bond, the only real Bond to many of us.  But in one scene he is even more spectacular than even Ian Fleming his creator imagined.  Being chased through Las Vegas in a red Mustang vintage 1971, his riding partner is Jill St. John.  Think about that scenario for a second, Bond with Jill in a red Mustang being chased through the streets of Vegas.  Take that Ms.SUV!  But after being chased around the Strip and various parking lots, we find James and Jill cornered in a dark parking lot with no escape.  Atta boy James...but back to the story.  The only escape is a narrow alley, with a loading platform blocking the car from fitting through.  But it is here that 007 shines where other double nought agents would have failed.  He hits the ramp with his left front wheel, and balancing on the two right wheels navigates the narrow alley.  But as good as he is going in, he is even better coming out.  He enters the alley on his two right wheels, but exits it on his two left ones!  Well done, 007!  A fact that many missed at the movies, I did, too much JSt.J which was where the action would turn next, but the actual scene had stolen the scene.  Now years later CHiP’s would perfect it, becoming known as “the CHiP’s flip,” but that night in Vegas James set the scene for all of us.  James and Jill went up the hill on their right wheels, but ended up on their left ones when exiting.  Which raises many questions.  What went on between the left flip and the right flip?  How did Jill stay out of James’ lap when the car flipped?  And why didn’t we catch it?  The one scene I would have loved to see was omitted.  Perhaps Bond’s answer from another interrogation about a date with a beautiful woman gives us insight, “it’s not the kind a question a gentleman would answer.”  Funny he never called her a lady.  Keeping the British end up James?

In the well known nursery rhyme, Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water.  When Jack fell down, he broke his crown, and Jill joined him later.  Tumbling I believe the story goes.  Like James and Jill, Jack and Jill made a fine pair, if only for one moment in time they are remembered for.  But when Jack fell down, he broke his crown, then Jill came tumbling after.  Quite different from the story of Adam and Eve, where Eve fell down and lost her crown, and Adam went tumbling after.  Yet the story of both are retold many times over, and yesterday listening to a noted psychologist, he wanted 90% of the jails closed, turned into prisons, and that would change the world.  He’s right it would, and remember the first few letters of psychologist are psycho.  He is one.  But his reasoning is skewed, much like his stupid vision, for he believes all children are born good, it is the world that teaches them to be bad.  I don’t know if he has any children, but if he did he missed out on one basic truth which is found in scripture.  Romans tells us “all are born into sin and fall short of the glory of God.”  Blame it on Adam and Eve, they fell down and we all have come tumbling after.  Information given for free just by reading your Bible, rather than being led astray for $200/hour.  And making another appointment next week.  But how can that sweet bubbly, innocent looking baby be evil?  Or born into sin?  It’s not his fault is it?

Sadly sin is a trait, just like blue eyes or blond hair we are passed down to from our parents.  But it is fixable, but only in Jesus.  Think about it.  You parents, did you ever have to teach your children to cry when they didn’t get their way?  To yell mine when they wanted something?  To throw food when they didn’t get their way?  Dr. Spock never taught new moms any of that, nor did Mr. Spock.  Even my memory goes back to events of when I was three years old, but I don’t remember any lessons on getting my own way.  I remember being corrected for demanding it way too often.  So sorry Dr. Psycho, there is a reason for prisons, and the doors on them.  To keep them in, but maybe to keep you out.  Read the following Rules for Toddlers, and I rest my case.

1-If I like it, it’s mine. 2-If it’s in my hand, it’s mine.  3-If I can take it from you, it’s mine.  4-If I had it a little while ago, it’s mine.  5-If it’s mine, it must never appear to be yours in any way.  6-If I’m doing something or building something, all the pieces are mine.  7-If it looks just like mine, it’s mine.  8-If I saw it first, it’s mine.  9-If you are playing with something and put it down, it automatically becomes mine.  10-If it’s broken, it’s yours.  So easy a toddler can get it, so why can’t a psycho doctor?

But there is a way out of our toddler mentality, it is Jesus.  When we become his, we are forgiven.  He claims #1-9 about us.  He saw us first, and loved us anyway.  But #10 is where we all feel left out.  For even when the world casts us out for being broken, Jesus takes us in, just as we are.  Riding, playing, arguing, behind bars, or even in church-when we give our lives to him we are his.  Jack may have fallen down, as we all have, Jill tumbled later, but Jesus came after to save us.  The real and only cure for prison walls and doors.  Fact not psychology.  Truth versus theory.  The one sure thing we can always count on.  Today you may be facing a hill, a narrow alley, and wonder how you will come out, or even ever get out.  Turn to Jesus, for he sees things we cannot see.  He sees the things we couldn’t see when the Mustang magically flipped from right to left.  He sees what goes on behind closed doors and in our hearts.  He is the way out, the way back.  And his offer stands right now, even when we can’t. 

James knew he would escape, and Jack knew he would be coming down the hill again.  But only God knows how and when.  And protects us as we go.  And you don’t need a psycho doctor to blame it on society.  We are all born into sin and fall short, so because God so loved the world, he sent Jesus.  Just for you, even if you were the only one who had ever sinned.  You are loved that much.  So whether you are Adam and Eve, Jack or Jill, or James and Jill, Jesus is the way out of your trouble.  He is the way!

I wonder....I have a red Mustang in the garage, and I know this alley with a loading ramp.  “Hey, Theresa, wanna go for a ride?  I’ll drive...”

love your 200 pound toddler,

Mike

matthew 25biker.blogspot.com

smooth roads do not make skilled riders

The day Interstate 78 opened in New Jersey the whole world changed.  At least locally for us.  Where it once was an arduous ride on US 22, the busiest road in the US of A to see my Grandparents, passing such icons as the Leaning Tower of Pizza, The Flagship, and eateries such Texas Weiner and the Steer Inn, now it was without a stoplight for over 40 miles, with only an occasional exit to remind us when to get off.  A bucolic countryside of patchwork farms, opening up a view to what many don’t believe could or does exist in Jersey.  It was smooth, fast, and at least at first a great place to drag race.  The future was upon us, and old roads like Route 22 would soon become obsolete.  Along with the many businesses that lined them.  Many family owned businesses ending after decades, all due to reduced traffic on the alternate modern route.  Where once you had to dodge 18 wheelers heading to port in New York City, families heading to eat at Howard Johnson’s and waiting for the light to turn green, now all you had to do was point and steer.  Remember what exit you had to get off at, and then make a new path to your final destination.  Limited access freeways they were called, with all the flavor of artificial vanilla, and all the color of off white.  But they were new, and at least for awhile exciting, until the boredom set in.  And suddenly the traffic on Route 22 didn’t seem all that bad, the burgers at Steer Inn not so greasy, and Two Guys not such a bad place to shop.  We were being homogenized, not necessarily a bad thing, but the process was taking away a vestige of individuality, of creativity, of the “you can make it in America” promise we learned in elementary school.  The roads were smooth, no curves, you by passed Jugtown Mountain, and now a stop at Cappy Dick’s for a soft serve required knowing what exit to get off at.  For the farm stand the same, even the old free bridge to Easton was by passed, a new toll bridge taking its place.  What was once an interesting if sometimes arduous ride was now reduced to 40 minutes of pretty countryside, with no sign of life except for dairy cows.  Who didn’t seem particularly impressed by the new road’s invasion.  The roads were better, the views prettier, no traffic lights, but also no interaction, or very little between drivers.  No more nodding at the guy next to you at a light, or asking directions when stopped.  Now you kept going, eyes ahead and focused at a scary, steady 60 mph, with only 77 WABC to keep you company, when it wasn’t blocked out from the hills.  The whole world had changed right before our very eyes, and the dream we had envisioned was now here.  But where were we headed?  And how would we know when we got there?

Over 40 years of riding and driving have given me a unique perspective of traffic, drivers, and the roads we travel.  A man on a motorcycle having his clutch cable break reminded me of how dependent we have become.  In the past we would have kept going, and made it home.  This man panicked and pulled over, until I came along and rode it home for him.  His cell phone his only tool, how did we get along without them?  I watch as with computers, you just turn the car on and drive off, remember hitting the gas twice, then turning the key?  Letting it warm up before it could be driven off?  We used to have a choice between regular and no-lead, now we get no-lead only.  Where once we downshifted in bad weather to get down Jugtown Mountain, now the freeway bypassing it allows you to maintain a steady speed.  No freeway runoffs, no truck lane only, no backup of traffic going down, or up.  With the cruise control set, your AC set to a comfortable level, and your Sirius radio playing only what you want to hear, you sit in isolation from the world.  Everything is better than it once was, but we have become casualties of progress.  Rough roads, turns, elevation changes, and other traffic made us better drivers.  We had to be just to avoid the newer ones, who never drove Route 22.  And we were faced, and still are faced today with the results that smooth roads do not make better drivers.  Or riders. 

An old driving tip of putting your right front wheel against the curb to follow the road in a snowstorm now is obsolete.  Downshifting going down hills, turning off the AC going up, actually looking at maps as opposed to mindlessly following a GPS has put us out of touch we reality.  Windows up, don’t look at other drivers, and heaven help anyone interfering with your piece of the road.  Road rage has now replaced road manners and courtesy, you don’t even have look at your fuel gauge, a voice will tell you how many miles till empty.  Taking all the interaction of driving has made us numb, and a generation of bad drivers.  I have a nephew who couldn’t roll down the windows in my truck, they aren’t power.  Christopher drove the whole time on a trip to France, he was the only one who could drive a stick.  An arrow even tells us which side the fuel filler is on, but yet too many cannot figure it out, just watch at any gas station.  Which we used to call service stations....Better cars, better roads, but not better drivers.  And next time you get cut off by an SUV with the driver under the influence of cell phone or children, don’t blame them.  Someone passed them on their driver’s test!  Hands at 2 and 10, don’t adjust the radio or the mirror.  We would have been failed for that....today point, steer to avoid, and if the road is rough, pull over and call AAA.  All the while complaining.

Roads were  meant to take us places, and in Isaiah 40:4 we find a prophetic statement in regards to interstate travel.  “Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low, the rough ground shall become level, and the rugged places a plain.”  Sounds like my kind of road for riding, until we find that describes the interstate.  And also the relationship of many with Christ.  “Come to Jesus and everything will be alright,” yet the next day we go out and find our tire flat.  Not what we signed up for, but it is exactly what we signed up for, a life where we need God.  Where we cannot go it alone, where 2 Corinthians tells us we need him.  We are “hard pressed on every side, but not crushed, perplexed but not in despair, persecuted but not abandoned, struck down but not destroyed.”  So that Jesus may be seen in us, and how when we let him handle the rough roads, he will get us through.  It is the rough roads that make us stronger, that bring us closer to God, so if the road you are on is rough, it is probably the right one.  If your testimony is how you managed to make it over them with God’s help, you are closer to him.  But if you insist on freeways only, taking the shortest way to get there, you miss out.  You miss the valleys where the mist hangs in the mornings, the smell of the atmosphere, and interacting with others.  You miss the view when you get to the top, and the appreciation of what it took to get there, and how Jesus got you there.  You miss the interaction with people, and sitting at the counter at Jimmy’s eating a hot dog.  Drinking a buttermilk with a red hot on the way home.  You miss out on having to acquire driving skills and having to use them, or to helping out others.  And you miss a side of God you will never see if you never have trouble.  It is in the tough times, the rough roads, the buckling asphalt that we need a strong suspension, only found in Jesus. 

Consider getting out of Bible study and into ministering.  If the seat of your pants is wearing faster than the soles of your shoes, you need to get out and into Jesus.  Route 22 is calling in many ways, what will your answer be?  The highway or the easy way?  The freeway or a back road where you get to see Jesus?  Consider eating a DQ under trees instead of at a truck stop, a real hamburger instead of tasteless patty at a chain, and consider Jesus when choosing life.  Rough roads make great rides, but only for those skilled enough.  You will never know until you get out and see.  You think you have talent, God sees your potential.  Who you see will tell you where you are going and where you will end up.  And as any biker will tell you not all curves are unwelcome.  Jesus knows that too.  Now, which road will you take today, the exciting way in Jesus or the freeway?  Both come with a price....it’s not too late to change the road you’re on. 

While you stand in line and order a #2 super sized, make mine a chili dog with extra onions, where I can sit and see my bike as the traffic goes by.  Where the waitress calls you honey, the table sticky, and the soda cold.  Along with others who chose to get off the freeway and back into life.  Talking with others, a fellowship on and of the road.  Excuse me while I pass the ketchup to the guy next to me.  For his fries, not his hot dog, for there are still some things you never should do.  Jesus Christ, “hi, come here often?”  He’s regular in my ride, I hope he is in yours, too.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com